


reraise

by blackenedgirl



Category: TsukiPro the Animation
Genre: Angst, Gen, Grieving, Mention of Death, Somewhat bitter, that's all I can write apparently
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 17:54:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17565233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackenedgirl/pseuds/blackenedgirl
Summary: Mamoru only has one day when he can let out everything.





	reraise

**Author's Note:**

> This is not really edited, sorry! I just wrote it and decided to post it before regretting it.  
> Just wanted to contribute my own thing since I love Mamo-chan so much, but all I can write is sadness and bitterness lol ^^". I feel like we really hardly ever touch the topic about Mamo-chan's family, so here's this short piece. Maybe I'll explore it more in the future if we have more canon about it ^^
> 
> (Note: I have absolutely no clue in flower language. I simply used google and hope for the best. If you think it should be different flowers, please tell me!)

He woke around 5 am. Well, not exactly – he napped for 45 minutes after pulling an all-nighter to work on the recent song he had composed. He'd usually rest a bit more, until 9 at least, and get lectured by Ryo-kun about his _horrendous_ sleeping habits. Today, however, he won't, since they all went back home to celebrate the holidays. They'll be back tomorrow – oh, wait, it's actually today's evening. He should really pay more attention to his surrounding, huh.

He could've gone with them, of course. Kou-kun always invites him, and he thinks Kou-kun's mother has become quite fond of him. He would've gone, usually, but this date this year is no good for him.

First, he had to take a shower. Ten minutes and done, no need for any more. Afterwards, he shaved his face. This task he was doing slowly and carefully, as his hands were shaking due to the lack of sleep. It's funny how fast his stubbles grow. Come to think about it, when was the last time he shaved? _Bad, bad habits._

Last, he put his clothes on. White buttoned-up shirt tucked nicely in a pair of dress pants, with a brown buckle to hold it all, and a serious black jacket. He took a few more minutes than he'd like to admit on getting the tie right, but it's been so long since he had to tie one.

 _Suits really don't fit me,_ he concluded while examining himself in the mirror. He asked Kou-kun to iron it last week, yet he still somehow managed to get it wrinkled. _Oh, well, better wrinkled than burned, right?_ He never managed to iron anything successfully, so he needs to thank Kou-kun for doing it for him, no question asked, too. He made sure Ryo-kun and Ken-kun weren't in the house when he asked for this favour and crossed his fingers they wouldn't find out. He didn't want to keep secrets from them, but…this is a special occasion.

He looked at the clock – _it's 6 already?! –_ he should leave soon, else, he'll be late. His coat waited for him on the chair, but, was there anything else? He looked around to see if he's forgotten anything.

 _The flowers, obviously!_ He rolled his eyes. He could live with his absent-mind personality, not today, though! Today he had to do everything right and proper! He put memo notes everywhere in his room to remind himself to get the bouquets yesterday. Two bouquets of wormwoods and pink carnations – he would've bought something with a happier meaning, because this isn't like him, but today was too important.

And if his memory doesn't betray him, he wrote a check list on his cell phone. That's right!

 

The train he took was heavily crowded. _Even though it's only 6:30!_ All those people were here, waking up early, how diligent!

Next to the businessmen, his suit looked pretty good. He felt relief. Granted, he bought it two years ago, and only wore it twice, for one day exactly, but the wrinkles weren't that visible! How it would look after he took off the train, however, that was an entirely different story…

Nevermind that, the bouquets were more important. He tried to shield them with his body the best he could.

30 minutes until he arrives. His mind was completely empty.

He stared at the view from the windows, but it felt as though his mind couldn't comprehend anything.

 

He always liked plants. Music too, but music was a thing he was gifted by a classmate. One of the very first memories he had were standing in a flower shop. Many years have passed, now he only remembers fragments. It made his chest ache.

It's cold. It was snowing yesterday. Not today, thankfully. After ten minutes of cleaning, he was starting to sweat, yet his hands were still freezing.

The marble shined bright. That's the only thing he can clean right. At home he wouldn’t even be allowed a towel.

In his pocket he had incense. He brought it every year even though he knew it's always too cold. This year had a strong wind as well, so he can't light it here. Not at home, too, they'll return at evening. He felt like it's okay, though, they'll forgive him, even if he skips it, it's the intention that counts after all!

He kneeled in front of the graves and closed his eyes. The ground was cold, his knees already hurt. He simply silenced the complaints in his head.

Where should he start?

 

He's unsure about the beginning every time, but once he starts, it flows. He thinks about far memories, but none of them comes up anymore. As expected, he hardly remembers anything for his high school days anymore.

He tries. He thinks about the orphanage.

There's no one in the cemetery. He allows himself to speak out loud.

"Hey, do you remember the first time I came?" His eyes were shut tightly, and he clutched his hands. "It was two years after…the accident."

He was crying back then, right?

"And the year afterwards. I told you that it'll be okay. That I'll be fine." Now he opened his eyes and his gaze was shifting between the two graves. "It wasn't. it was hard." He doesn't have any bitterness in his voice. In high school, when he first admitted that he was through a hardship he didn’t know how to handle it. "And there were many moments when I want to g-give up." He couldn't tell whether it was the cold sipping to his bones, or the lump stuck in his throat that made him stutter.

"But the hardest thing was living like _that_." He felt anger swelling inside him. He encountered it when he was in his last year in high school. When he realized that after graduation, he was all alone again. When he tried to convince himself that he was okay with the future he figured out. When he felt so small comparing to the world he was standing against.

"I'm not doing that anymore, though. I – I told you already."

He smiled widely. "I'm an idol now." He said it the same way the same way he's been saying it for the three years before. "How weird, right?"

When he thinks about it, after going previous events in his life, it sounds so bizarre. He's an _idol_.

"Would you imagine it? The child that I was, becoming an idol, of all things? I bet you would've never imagined." He chuckled.

In a moment, his tone became much more serious. "Will I be happy?"

"I…don't know. I feel happiness right now, but I don't know what future holds for me."

It wasn't in his nature to be too stubborn. He would with whatever path wasn't laid in front of him. That's why he was a troublesome child. He could pretend to be happy, but he felt like he would never be able to achieve true happiness.

"But…I have a family now. Mostly – they can't babysit me all the time, but they are here for me. They listen to me and – and, they take care of me."

His knees started shaking, like his hands. And suddenly, he realized, his entire body is shaking.

He doesn't stop. He keeps talking about small littles things.  About his everyday life, his unit, their performances. He avoids talking too much about the past because it sadness him that he can't remember much about them, his parents.

His legs gave up after he caught up. He sat down on the ground in an awkward position, laughing to himself.

The cemetery is till empty. Must be the cold weather.

 _Great_. It's a tradition to sing them all the songs he has created. He starts with the old ones, reviewing them along the way – after gaining some experience he can see all the mistakes – and proceeds to the newest ones. The harmonies are missing, but he obviously can't do them alone. That's way he was considering playing them in his phone the year before – his parents deserve to hear his songs the way he's meant them to be sung – but…it's disrespectable to other people in the cemetery. So, he just sings. Sings songs no one has ever heard before, songs that he'll never release, songs that contain feelings he never shows.

When he's done, his throat hurt. He sung for so long with no break, in such a cold weather, in the last few songs, it was noticeable that his voice became hoarse, but he couldn't stop. Not halfway. He sung them with a smile, brimming with pride.

 

The way back home feels much longer. There aren't many people on the train, which allows him to find a seat in the corner. He doesn't know what's the hour, his eyes are too blurry to tell and he can't see. There are stains on his pants, not clear since the pants were black, but he could feel the wetness from his tears.

He tries his best to – _just_ – stop crying. There, he knew he'd forgotten something, his handkerchief. Even with the checklist. Even with the notes. He always does.

Instead, he uses his sleeves to wipe his eyes and blow his nose.

 

His eyes ere still somewhat red after the ride. He checked in the bathroom, and it wasn't _that_ terrible. He just dislikes walking in the streets like he bawled his eyes out. His body felt weak – trembling – it was difficult to carry himself.

His hand grasped the knob with the little force he has left.

 _The lights are on._ He jerked his head. _The air-conditioning too_. Did he leave it on accident? No way. The lights alone, maybe, air-conditioning? Could be, but both? He is not so careless.

His growling stomach made him aware of the fact that he could smell something good from the kitchen.

"Ah, Kou-kun!" He must've looked like a mess with the disheveled suit, the puffy eyes, and the pale face. Not to mention, his voice sounded bad too…

"Mamoru, what happened?" Kou-kun looked concerned. "We just got back, but you weren't here, and you didn't answer your phone…we were so worried, that something happened…"

His phone's battery probably died through out the day. He left in his pants, anyway, never taking it out during the entire day.

"I was just…" He tried to smile, but even that was painful. "Just was out…"

"Come in. You should take a bath first. We can have dinner later." Kou-kun's voice was so soft.

He nodded. No questions asked. He could see Ryo-kun and Ken-kun ain the corner of his vision, Ryo-kun looking annoyed with him, as usually, and Ken-kun smiling at him, but no question asked.

It was much easier to form a smile.

He wasn't sure if he actually said it out loud or not.

Doesn't matter. It's the intention that counts.

 

_"Thank you."_

 


End file.
